Kid's tales and a child's confession
by toeki
Summary: While outwaiting a storm, Vash and Wolfwood play the children's game of telling stories to each other.The innocent game takes a more serious turn when Wolfwood decides to tell the story of his first kill...


The storm was howling outside, rattling at the wooden panels nailed across the windows, like it was angry because it had been shut out. It carried loads of desert sand and small debris now, but when reaching its full force, it would be able to move everything that hadn´t been fastened properly, including chairs, cars and animals.

Inside a dark room of a shabby inn there was an annoyed voice swearing: _Nothing´s working in this fucking shithole! Thanks to that bitch of a storm we have a fucking blackout now, how shall I find the fucking matchbox when it`s pitch black in here..._The swearing went on, using even more colourful expressions. Finally the owner of the voice seemed to have found some matches because the sound of a match against the side of the box could be heard.

The small flame illuminated Wolfwood´s tired face when he lit his cigarette. The black-haired man sighed in relief while inhaling the smoke, throwing the extinct match away.

Suddenly a very cheery voice was heard from the corner of the room.

_Hey Wolfwood,_ _I think I´ve found some candles over here!_

_So what, airhead?_

_So we ´ll have some light soon!_, Vash answered, still sounding overwhelmingly happy, completely ignoring Wolfwood´s bored tone. There was some rustling, then the sound of fast steps,

accompanied by some _Ows _and _Ooops_ as Vash knocked over the table while making his way back to Wolfwood.

_Would you give me one of your matches, please?_

Wolfwood lit the candle,smiling at the blond man´s attempt to keep to his ridicoulous politeness even here in this dirty inn when the two of them were all alone. The priest thought about teasing him a little but decided not to. He didn´t want to turn the honest smile on Vash´s face to that pained little fake grin it usually showed.

He liked to see Vash smile, but didn´t tell him too often. Don´t want him to come to the wrong conclusions, Wolfwood thought. Though sometimes this broom-headed jerk seems to be too fucking naive to come to _any_ conclusions at all.

Right now he disturbed Wolfwood´s thoughts by draping a worn-out blanket over the table he had put upright again. _What the hell are you doing, Spikey?,_ a somehow distracted Wolfwood asked while watching Vash placing the candle carefully underneath the table.

_I´ve built a cave,_ Vash happily responded.

_What for? _

Vash´s smile faded away. _You don´t know? But every kid could tell you... _

_Oh please forgive me for my lack of childhood, but I __**don´t**__ have a clue because fighting and killing is __**not**__ what other kids consider __**normal**__, I guess._ Wolfwood was angry now, feeling kind of stupid. He hated his non-existing childhood for backfiring at him right now.

He watched Vash´s expression turn from distracted to pityful and wanted to punch the other man because he would never allow someone to pity him. Vash didn´t sense his anger. He simply took him by the shoulders, bringing his face very close to Wolfwood´s. Now Wolfwood had a **very **good reason to hit him for violating his personal space like this, but stopped moving when he saw the real smile on the blond man´s face. Vash´s bright green eyes met Wolfwood´s almost black ones. Wolfwood noticed the excited, childlike expression in Vash´s eyes.

_I´ll show you_, Vash whispered, still smiling. He took a very confused Wolfwood by the sleeve and drew him towards the table._ You have to crawl in there, _Vash advised matter-of-factly.

_What the fuck is that for? _The priest eyed him suspiciously.

Vash looked a little insecure now._Well...you crawl in the cave and tell stories to each other ...it´s what my brother and me did when we were bored ...and I thought outwaiting a storm doing nothing is__** very **__boring..._

Wolfwood laughed out loud. _You´re fuckin nuts!_

_So you don´t think it´s a good idea?_ Vash sounded disappointed.

Wolfwood stopped laughing. He rustled through his short black hair, thinking. He was a realist. Unlike Vash he was not he kind of naive idiot eager to bring his childhood back or hide in happy memories. He´d rather kill himself than start to dance around, acting like an overgrown kid. The way Spikey does all the time...I´m not sure if it´s wise to make up for a lost childhood like this...but hey, there´s nobody here to see, it´ll make the broomhead happy, and... He cleared his troat._Well... I don`t think it´s a bad idea.. You´re right, it __**is**__ boring just to wait, so... I guess it won´t hurt to try._

If somebody had watched, it would have made a strange view:

A spikey- headed blond man in a red coat and a black-suited smoker crouching under a table. It was kind of cramped .The `cave` would have been big enough for two kids, but not for the lanky, tall men they were.

Wolfwood insisted on Vash to talk first. He wondered what Vash would come up with, already knowing the blond man had been through a lot in his 150 years of wandering this planet. Most of this wouldn´t make a pleasant story at all...

Wolfwood needn´t have worried: Vash was a good storyteller, bringing to life events of his childhood in the spaceship long ago: about tricks he and his brother played to Rem, a birthday party just for the two of them, videos he had watched, strange and funny people he had met during his journeys... He went on for hours, while the old blanket muffled the howling of the storm, separating the childhood world beneath the table from the unpleasant one outside. Though the realist Wolfwood would never have admitted it aloud, he enjoyed this break from reality, admiring Vash´s way to tell his stories while swiftly driving around the more serious stuff. Finally Vash went silent. The candle was nearly burnt down. Vash lit a new one. Wolfwood watched silently, studying the blond man´s face in the flickering light. The green eyes were shining with happiness now, making the tall man look more like the kid he once had been than the traveling gunman he was now.

The priest was lost in thought and nearly jumped when Vash was nudging him gently. _It´s your turn now._

Wolfwood looked startled. _My turn?_

_To tell a story_, Vash whispered, almost impatiently.

_My turn..._ Wolfwood was thinking hard to find a good excuse, couldn´t come up even with a lame one and finally decided that Vash deserved to know the truth.

_Spikey.. The reason why I made __**you **__start was I couldn´t imagine a single happy story. All I ever knew.. was about darkness and pain and people getting hurt... I didn´t want to ruin your game, and I don´t want to ruin it now. So please let go... All I can talk about is sad things..._

_Wolfwood..._Vash didn´t smile any more. _Having no happy memories to rely on is __**horrible**_. _I never imagined it would be __**that**__ bad. Though I noticed...Well... All the nights we had to share a room.. You were kicking and screaming in your sleep... I noticed something was wrong, but never dared to ask because I know you don´t like to talk about... the past... feelings... stuff like that... But sometimes you need to talk to someone about the things eating away at you..._

_Why? _Wolfwood responded gloomily, mentally kicking himself for showing such weakness to Vash without even noticing. _Past is past and you can´t fuckin change it. _

_Well...you feel better afterwards?_ Vash was focusing Wolfwood, not allowing him to lower his gaze. S_o... even though it´s a sad story.. I still want to hear it... Nicolas... please..._Vash normally didn´t use Wolfwood´s first name. It was somehow touching, the priest thought.

He got up, hitting the table with his head, nearly knocking it over.

_Hey, where are you going?_, Vash had never intended to make Wolfwood angry, let alone making him leave. He grabbed the priest´s sleeve, holding him in place, his voice trembling with fear. _I´m sorry, I´m sorry, I don´t want you to go! _He was completely flustered when Wolfwood responded with a tiny smile. _If I have to tell a story I need a drink and a new box of cigarettes... would you please loosen your grip so I can fetch the stuff?_

Wolfwood refused to tell his story beneath the table. He did not want to violate Vash´s innocent childhood refuge by telling something horrible.

So they were seated at opposite sides of the bed now: Vash huddled in his blanket and Wolfwood holding a glowing cigarette in one hand and an already half- emptied bottle of whiskey in the other. Wolfwood eyed the bottle and decided he was tipsy enough to start now. He cleared his throat.

_Well.. long time ago.. fuck no, not that long ago... there was a boy. And the boy had no parents. He didn´t know what had happened to them. Perhaps they had died or decided to leave him because they didn´t love him, but he didn´t really care. He couldn´t even remember them. The boy was raised by a guardian... he was a respected member of society, even a churchman. People bowed their heads when they met him in town. He was always friendly, always correct in everything he did when other people where around. _

Wolfwood took a sip from his bottle.

_But at home... he was not as fuckin´ correct as he pretended to be. He didn´t like children. The boy never found out why Churchman had decided to become his guardian. Churchman never showed a single emotion to the boy other than anger when the kid did something wrong. And he used to punish mistakes... very hard. _

Wolfwood was flinching at the thought.

_To his opinion hitting across the kid´s fingers with a thin wooden stick was a suitable punishment for being noisy, for example._

Vashs eyes widened. He was moving closer to Wolfwood now, trying to touch him. Wolfwood brushed his hand away.

_You wanted to hear the story, now don´t disturb me, Spikey._

_This would´ve been fine with the boy,_ Wolfwood continued. _Churchman didn´t love him, Churchman punished him for makin´ mistakes. You can live with that, I guess, and try to make less mistakes. But after the boy had lived there for some time, churchman began to develop some very strange habits. It started with the __**staring**__. Churchman simply stood in front of his bed at night and stared at him._

_Why?,_ Vash asked naively.

_The boy didn´t know what to think of it, _Wolfwood explained. _He thought it was eerie. But he never dared to ask his guardian, afraid it could be a mistake he would be punished for. So the kid just pretended to be asleep, watching the staring Churchman through half closed eyelids. But the_ _guardian didn´t stick to the staring. Soon he started something new. He kneeled at the bed, sliding his big hands beneath the blanket and__** touched **__the boy. The kid still pretended to be asleep. He could smell liquor in his guardian´s breath and guessed Churchman was kinda drunk right then..._

_Oh no! He didn´t..._Vash was clutching Wolfwood´s sleeve now, looking terrified...

_No he didn´t,_ Wolfwood answered matter-of-factly, feeling Vash´s grip loosing a bit.

_The kid was too young to understand the meaning of the touching, that it had something to do with forbidden desire and filthy thoughts never allowed to a priest... for the boy, the touching just felt odd and somehow wrong. But it didn´t hurt, so he decided not to complain about it._

_His ignorance didn´t work for very long. After some nights of drunken touching, his guardian began to focus him during breakfast. The boy was surprised to see an emotion upon the man´s face, and he was terrified because the emotion was disgust und pure hatred. His thoughts were interupted when his guardian slammed the glass bowl filled with cornflakes right into his face._

Wolfwood unintentionally moved his arms. Vash realized he was back there now, facing the outbreak of voilence all alone. Vash wanted to hug and protect the black-haired man, but didn´t dare to move, afraid Wolfwood would stop talking then. Wolfwood was coughing now, continuing with a hoarse voice.

_He was howling in pain, trying to wipe the food and shards of glass away, noticing the milk was mixed with another liquid now. His own blood._

_The guardian did nothing more this morning. He just left the table telling the boy to clean up the mess. It was kinda frightening. The boy couldn´t make head or tail of it. But this changed soon. Though he was only five years old, he soon noticed that a night of drunken touching was always followed by beating in the morning. And the beating became worse: Churchman hit him with everything available, from spoons to plates to the_ _boots he was wearing..._

Vash didn´t make a sound, just staring at the shivering Wolfwood in shock.

_And sometimes Churchman was even yelling at me, that I was the devil, a living sin that had to be extinguished, the seducer doing the devil´s work._

_Would you light another cigarette for me, please? My hands are so unsteady right now..._Vash did as he was told to, wondering if Wolfwood had even noticed himself slipping from third person narrator to a more personal point of view.

_I...the boy didn´t mind the yelling but tried to avoid the hits. This increased Churchman´s anger even more. Soon everyone could see there was something wrong with the boy. Churchman couldn´t keep him in the house for weeks. The kid had to buy supplies for the priest, and he had to go to school. So people in town saw the boy with a broken arm, torn up nose, bruised eyes and legs. Though not all injuries were visible (the bruised ribs were hidden under his shirt, for example), the kid thought it was kinda obvious. But no one asked. It was quite the opposite, they_ _turned away and pretended not to see him when he was walking through town._ Wolfwood paused, gazing at the flickering candle, lost in unpleasant memories.

_I´m here, Wolfwood. I won´t look away._ Vash placed his arm around Wolfwood´s shoulders protectively._ Are you able to go on?_

_I.. I think so..., _Wolfwood murmured. _Only the woman from the grocery store looked at him with eerie eyes, asking strange questions_. Wolfwood laughed bitterly now. _And I was too foolish to recognize she was just trying to help me. I tried to avoid her though she always had some candy and friendly words for me... But she was the one I went to when it was all over..._

Wolfwood sighed and stopped trembling.

_Soon Churchman began to punish me for ruining his reputation. I couldn´t imagine the pain becoming worse than it was back then, but the force and violence increased. I didn´t try to avoid the hits any more, just did nothing until it was over. I realized he could kill me any time if he really tried to. I was afraid. I was afraid of dying._

_The special day didn´t seem special at first. My guardian began to hit me with the metal can containing the milk for breakfast, yelling at me for spilling the milk. He let go of the can, slamming his huge fist into my face. I still remember the slick feel of blood. It was a hard blow,but it was nothing compared to the thick wall hitting my face moments later. It took several seconds to realize it was the floor. It was like I was struck down by an intense force. I couldn´t move my body on my_ _own accord. I had no strength in my arms, wriggling on the carpet like a caterpillar._ _The beating stopped. My vision was blurred, so it took some time to find the reason. Churchman was opening the top drawer of his desk. Oh, I knew the contents of the drawer very well. It was a colt he kept for self defense. I had even seen him practising, and he was a pretty accurate gunman. Now he came_ _back, the gun in his hand. Churchman cocked the weapon and pressed the muzzle against the back of my head. __I´ll finish this now.__.., he whispered in a hoarse voice._

_I was just a kid, and I was convinced this was the moment of my death. With a shudder of loss, my body turned cold in one breath. I was an empty, worthless existence, had given up all hope for the future... But for the first time in my life,** I didn´t want to die.**_

_I still don´t know where my strength came from, but I managed to jump up, knocking the gun off my surprised guardian´s hands while moving. The weapon hit the carpet with a soft thudd., then it slid beneath a very heavy closet. _

Wolfwood smiled an empty smile, not even noticing Vash´s worried eyes looking at him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

_This piece of furniture probably saved my life. Churchman was trying to reach the gun, but his hands were to big to fit into the small space beneath the closet. He became very angry and completely forgot about me while trying to lift the piece of furniture, but it was obviously too heavy for him. Finally he stopped being mad and gazed at me with cold eyes. __**You´ll fetch it.**_

Wolfwood´s tale was interrupted by Vash squealing. _He really gave such an advise to you? Oh my god, this can´t be..._

_It __**can**__ be and he __**did. **__It was just like him, ya know_, Wolfwood snapped, realizing he was trembling again.

_But I didn´t see the point in providing him with the tool to kill me, so I did not move, just staring back. The blow sending me to the floor once more proved it had been a mistake to do nothing. So I reached beneath the closet. It was easy for me because my hands and arms were so small. My trembling fingers clutched around the handle. I looked up at him, realizing Churchman was either dumb as a box of rocks or too arrogant to be true. The guardian didn´t even __**consider**__ the possibility that the wriggling piece of shit on the floor would __**not **__do his bidding! He expected me to hand over_ _the tool for my execution__** obediently!**__ The moment I realized this, I made a desperate attempt to escape this madness. I drew the gun from beneath the closet and blindly fired in Churchman´s direction. There was the slick feel of blood again, but this time it was not mine. Churchman was lying on the floor, staring at me in disbelief, the carpet soaked in his blood._

_Nicolas.. help me.. You have to call a doctor... Why don´t you move? I __**advise**__ you to call a doctor __**right now**__!_

I _struggled to get back on my feet again. I looked down at the man becoming more and more angry because I did not obey. I don´t remember all of his babbling, but I clearly remember him saying __I swear I will kill you when this is over._

_I won´t give you another chance to try, I answered calmly, pointing the gun at him with now steady hands. I saw his eyes widen with fear for the first time, when he realized what I was going to do._

_...Nicolas, **stop! **Don´t you think there will be repercussions?..._

_But I didn´t care about repercussions any more. My heart had turned cold, and I calmly pulled the trigger._

Wolfwood waited for Vash´s usual `thou-shalt-not-kill´ -speech, but it didn´t come. Vash was hugging him instead, his eyes still wet with tears. Wolfwood rubbed his eyes and realized he was crying too. Suddenly he felt very weak and exhausted. He was not able to control this any more. The priest closed his eyes, mumbling: _This was the first confession I´ve ever made._ He started sobbing, leaving it to Vash to keep his trembling body from falling.

Vash felt helpless. Holding a crying Wolfwood was a completely new experience. The blond man **never **had seen Wolfwood cry all the time they had been traveling together. Vash simply didn´t know what to do. So he just kept hugging his friend, murmuring _there, there _while stroking Wolfwood´s head.

Finally the trembling and sobbing stopped. Wolfwood was breathing calmly and steadily again. Vash smiled, realizing the priest was asleep. Slowly Vash retreated from the embrace, carefully avoiding to wake the priest. The blond man reached for the blanket, protectively covering his sleeping friend. Vash kept sitting close to him, ruffling through Wolfwood´s shaggy black hair.

_I´m sorry for bringing those painful memories back...but I **promise** it is easier to carry a heavy burden when you share it. I´m here, Wolfwood._

_ END_


End file.
